Tags » Prose

Stepping Out

Stepping out through the door of his house, which was swollen by the moisture and did not shut properly, casting off his shoes to thrust his feet in the uneven grass, which, dead and alive, was a chorus of mute tones, browns and reds and greens, casting off his sleepiness with a shudder as he stepped beneath and then out from beneath the newly leafed deciduous trees into the sunshine, casting off his shirt, casting off his boredom, turning, arms outspread breathing in, out, casting off his ambitions, casting off his intelligence, casting off death, casting off his ideas like the clothing he cast off until he was nude, falling in faith and not knowing that he had ever fallen before like that on his back in the grass, casting off his language and his memory and his poetry, he was as mutely eloquent as a lion basking and blinking in the mid-day sun. 12 more words


The Fatherless Boy Who Grew

The day the boy’s father walked away
Never thinking about the day
When he left his little seeds without sentiment
Into the arms of abandonment… 530 more words



 His words
touched her so deeply.
Powerful words.
They slid over her skin
like a caress,
brushed her lips like a kiss.
Maybe he was right. 9 more words



“I stared up at the ebbing quarter moon and the stars scattered like a handful of salt across the faraway sky…” – Billy Collins

I love them, the astrophysicists, 211 more words


Incongruence, or How to Make a Salad

It was Friday.

A cold snowy day. My wife was home from work, sick with a cold and I was the dutiful caregiver – supplying her with ice cold drinks and extra blankets. 554 more words



February 28 – Midnight, March 1, 2015

Gotta Find a Home: Conversations with Street People

by Dennis Cardiff


Free on Kindle Unlimited  ~  .99 Kindle Download